~~*~~

They sit in a budget meeting, with their hands under the table.  He draws arabesques on the back of her hand with a blue pen.   When they get up to leave, she tucks his art work against her stomach, holding a manilla folder to cover the unusual position of her hand.  She smiles at Skinner as she passes him, feeling daring.

She retaliates on Mulder's hand after dinner.  They sit on his couch, with Thai containers and chopsticks discarded on the table before them.  The tv is on, but they are watching Scully's black pen move over his skin.  He smiles, indulgent/adoring at her frowning concentration.

They have to scrub hard the next morning to get the ink off.  Scully believes that if she looks closely enough, she can still see Mulder's marks.

~*~

She was afraid to go into work today.  No, not afraid, she thought.  Trepidatious.  God, she must be tired.  That's not even a word.

She dressed all in black almost unconsciously.  She isn't a widow, she reproached herself.  He isn't dead.  But she cannot bear anything brighter.

They looked at her like she is a widow.  She doesn't want them to look at all.

Throwing water on Doggett was not responsible, but damn, it felt good.  She does not want to deal with this; not today, not ever.  The day has been one blow after another.

Her meditation in the office was not to be.  She hadn't seen this many people in the office...ever.  Then again, it was easier to face Skinner when she was furious.  Kersch’s promotion left her feeling nauseous.  And then John Doggett.  He had misjudged her and misjudged Mulder sight unseen.  Just like everyone else.  She didn't know her partner?  What would Doggett say, she mused darkly, knowing that she knew her partner well enough to be carrying his child?

~*~

The phone wakes her in the morning.  She squeezes her eyes shut and buries herself completely under the covers.  Mulder groans and stretches next to her, fumbling with the receiver.  When he answers, his name is hoarse, and he tries to clear his throat.  At the same time, his free hand reaches out for her, squeezing the side of her torso before rubbing gently up and down, his hand burningly warm even through her shirt.

"Mm-hmm" he murmurs, and then "mm-hmm" again.  "all right, we'll be right there."

He discards the phone with a sigh, and wraps himself around her again.  She makes a pleasant sound.  "Who was that?"

"Billy" he mumbles in her ear.  "We better go." He sits up, dragging the covers away and letting the cold air rush against her back.  She curls up more tightly, trying to get away.   They were scaring each other last night.

"Scully?" he questions tentatively.  He rushes on when she remains silent.

"Are you feeling all right?  I mean, you don't have to come if..." he trails off, and this is what wakes her up.

"No, no, Mulder, I'm fine." She sits up and rubs her eyes.  "I feel much better, really." She smiles at him.

He smiles back, and futilely tucks a strand of bed head hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek.  She leans against him, tucking her mouth against his neck.  "Thank you" she whispers.

~*~

Mulder had not spent enough time at her apartment to leave effects behind.  He was not there and she missed him.   And someone had been in her apartment again.  She went to Mulder's apartment, seeking him.

She is furious that Doggett keeps catching her when she is weak.  Whether or not it was him listening on the phone, she was again unbalanced when she called him up and yelled.  And now he has discovered her sleeping in Mulder’s bed.  She hoped he didn't notice the T-shirt, as she pushed past him to feed the fish.

Bastard, bastard, bastard she chanted to herself.  What was he doing in here anyway?  No doubt, he thinks her just as unstable and paranoid and dangerous as her partner.  Good.  Now where the *hell* is that fish food?

~*~

"I think you should go to a doctor." They are in bed again, in Mulder's room in Oregon.  They have a flight out tomorrow morning.  He has finished picking all the pine needles out of her hair.  He is scared, and this puts a petulant streak in his voice.  Stubborn.

So is she.  "When we get back" she mutters into the pillow.  She is wearing her pajamas this time.

He is silent, and she can feel his disapproval.  She rolls over to face him, reaching out an arm to touch him.  "I promise.  I'm okay, Mulder, really.  I just...haven't been eaten much today."

She looks up into his eyes, begging him to believe.  "Promise?" he pushes, very serious and not sulking like she expected.

She takes a deep breath to hide her uneasiness.  "Promise" she answers solemnly.  She tells herself she means it.

She leans forward and brushes her lips over his.

~~*~~

The End-ish
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